


Stay

by infinite_regress



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Romance, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_regress/pseuds/infinite_regress
Summary: Clara isn't in a hurry to go home, and it turns out the Doctor isn't in a hurry for her to leave.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azalays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalays/gifts).



> From Clara's point of view.

She wanted to stay, she really, really wanted to stay. So, after their adventure, she settled in the chair on the top deck of the console room with a copy of Jane Eyre, hoping he’d suggest going somewhere else. See another planet. Eat dinner. Do anything, really, no matter how small or mundane, because staying with him to do any little thing would be better than going back to a life of bus journeys and marking, cooking and washing up, and Wednesdays that could never come fast enough.

When she wasn’t with him, it was getting harder and harder to keep her mind on what she was doing at any given moment. She’d catch herself on Thursdays, wistfully remembering what they’d done, wishing she’d said this, or done that. She’d stumble through Friday and into Saturday, and spend the weekend wondering what he was doing, and turning down dates because, well, he might need her to save a planet or something. Then Monday would come around and it was a countdown to the whoosh of the blue box in her hall, or her kitchen, sometimes, more often lately, in her bedroom, but she knew better than to read too much into that. Although, the way he looked at her sometimes. . . He was doing it now. Staring, but trying to pretend he wasn’t. Didn’t he know the effect he had on her, when he turned that stormy gaze on her, or dazzled her with that smile? His face could shift from starlight to stone in a moment, and make her pulse shoot through the ceiling in the process.

To be fair, he probably didn’t realise the effect he had on her. He seemed to think little of himself in that regard. He considered himself too old, too skinny, too grey, too much an idiot, and frankly, he seemed oblivious to the fact that he was, and there were no other words for it, so damn _hot_.

He continued to pace, glancing up occasionally. He’d checked the same readings on the console at least four times. What went through his mind, she wondered, when he was like this, a mass of relentless energy, pacing, fidgeting, fiddling with knobs and switches she knew he didn’t need to touch, with those elegant long fingers. Given half the chance she could sure as hell put those hands to work. _Here I go again, mind in the gutter_. She knew what he’d say if he knew what she was thinking, he’d make some disparaging comment about pudding brains having one track minds, suggest, perhaps, that she get another relationship. And that would be a perfectly good idea, if she could ever imagine wanting anyone else the way she wanted him.

Stop it, she scolded herself. He’s not just some guy, he’s the Doctor, last of the Time Lords, and small things like physical attraction meant nothing to him. He didn’t even like hugs; he made _that_ perfectly clear right from the start. Although, just lately… Well, like she’d said to him, it was hard to keep up, what with _Pretty Woman_ blasting out of his anachronistic speakers, and his desperate, needy hug, and then later whirling her, quite literally off her feet in the Viking village. Talk about mixed messages. She shook her head. He was impossible; amazing, breath taking—deeply attractive—but completely impossible.

She’d make herself crazy if she carried on like this. It was probably best if she just read her book.

He continued to pace and she continued to pretend to read, until she just couldn’t stand it a minute longer.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

Clearly, there’s nothing wrong at all, because running his hand through his hair a hundred times, and shooting smouldering looks up in this direction, that’s completely normal. Perhaps he wanted her to leave, but couldn’t say it. No, it couldn’t be that, could it? He’d tell her. And how was looking at her like that supposed to do anything _but_ drive her crazy. He really was a clueless idiot sometimes.

"Honestly, you're like a caged animal tonight. Something bothering you?"

"Me, bothered? I'm never bothered. Being bothered is for—"

"Pudding brains?" she added, forcing a smile. It irked her when he lumped her in with all those others.  

"Why do you keep coming away with me?" he said, without warning, right out of the blue.

"What?" She looked sharply up over the copy of Jane Eyre. He really was the most infuriating man in the universe. Did he seriously not know how she felt about him? Could he possibly have missed the you-could-kiss-me-right-now smile and the come-to-bed-eyes? Wait, of course he missed that. Brain the size of a planet, but completely clueless in many other respects. What did he think was going on? One of these days, one day perhaps quite soon, she’d stop playing it subtle and tell him straight. If she ever got up the nerve.

"Simple question. Why?" he persisted.

"Don't you know?" she deflected the question.

"Clearly I don't know. There are somethings, rarely, that I actually don’t know. That's why I'm asking."

"Idiot," She sniffed. Was he goading her, pushing her to see how far she’d go? One of these days she’d bloody well tell him and that would just about serve him right.

"Yes. Answer the question," he said, agitated, looking like he was ready to tear out his hair with those long, nimble fingers.

She put the book down on her lap, clutching it still, as if it was a shield against the trials of real life, and narrowed her eyes. Okay, he’d asked for it. "Because I love you. I'm crazy about you. There, happy?" she blurted the words out in a rush, her face heating up as she spoke.

He stared at her. He didn’t speak, or confabulate, or brush the comment off with some clever remark, he just stared, with his jaw slightly slack, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. That, Clara decided, after she’d spilled her heart, was rude, and annoying, and he wasn’t going to get away with it.

"Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to say something?" she demanded. "You asked, I answered. Your turn."

"Alright," he said, his brogue was as broad as she could remember hearing it, and it sent her pulse soaring. He strode up the stairs towards her, something intense in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. Was he angry? Her heart rate spiked. What the hell was he going to do, pacing towards her like that?

Oh, god, the way he’s staring, taking the book from her hands and pulling her to her feet. "Never say that to me again unless you mean it," he growled right into her ear.

It was too delicious, the way he looked now, so close she could see his pupils blown large, the pink tinge to his cheeks, his breath fast, a man out of control, wild, and dangerous, and he wanted  _her_.   

"I. Love. You," she whispered, deliberately staring him down, but shaking inside, a little afraid, but in truth a lot more turned on by this sudden intensity.

He buried his hands in her hair. He pulled her towards him, crushing her lips with a kiss full of flame and fury, a kiss that had been building for eons, a hurricane of a kiss that would no longer be denied. Everything changed in that moment.

"Stay with me," he whispered, breathless.

She shuddered, slightly, at the burr in his voice, as the words slipped off his tongue and entwined her heart.

"Always," she replied. “For as long as you want me, I’ll stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on Tumblr http://infiniteregress17.tumblr.com/ for Doctor Who and occasional other scifi.


End file.
